Both Hair and Eyes
by Rosepoison
Summary: Bel's being chased by a nut wielding a particularly sharp house-hold implement. Can he get away in time, or will he be forced to . . . uncover . . . a rather uncomfortable subject? Or two?


Belphegor should feel ashamed of himself, running like one of those peasants. He should stand and _fight _like the prince he is.

Loosing a little blood, breaking a bone or two, it's never been a big deal. He once lost enough blood to drain an elephant dry one night, and broke half the bones in his body in a separate incident . . . two weeks apart. 

So, what's got him, the Bloody Prince, so afraid, you ask?

Lussuria's holding a pair of scissors.

. . .

Stop staring at the screen like that. Prince the Ripper is certainly not afraid of two pieces metal stuck onto a plastic handle. He's more worried about what they DO.

You see, Lussuria's pretty much been appointed the unofficial haircutter. But he can get a bit, carried away . . . just last week the officer managed to chop a foot of hair off Squalo, and LIVE. (The shark didn't look half bad afterwards, but he'd never admit it.)

In short, Lussuria has more tenacity than other stylists, but he's free and has more taste than you'd expect, so the Varia's otherwise stuck with him.

. . . Anyhow . . .

Belphegor trips over a wayward glove, diving head-first into a wall. His green-haired enemy backs the prince into a corner, scissors glinting evilly in the light.

"That was certainly un-princely of you Bel-chan. But, come now, a change in hair style once in a while couldn't be as painful smashing into the wall~"

Okay, that's it. Next chance gets the Prince is making Varia headquarters a spider, blasted, WEB of wires and knives.

"Don't even think about coming any closer to the Prince's hair with those _things_. And considering how much hair you shaved off that shark, he has to be careful!"

Lussuria thinks for a beat, still keeping a wary eye on Belphegor. Then he sighs, knowing there's only one thing he can do to get his way.

"Belphegor, I will personally blab to the entire unit your eye shape and color if you don't let me at least _trim _your hair. And you know how they talk, half the Mafia will know in a matter of hours. They till have that pool up too, you know . . ."

Bel stares at the older man in shock. Lussuria _never_ talks like that. Then the Sun Guardian's threat sinks in.

"You wouldn't . . ." Luss gives the Fallen Prince a look.

"Tch . . ." Bel sighs in defeat, glowering up at the victorious Sun Guardian . . .

. . .

Forty-five minutes or so later, a Lussuria finally explodes (though still carefully cutting Belphegor's hair.)

"Bel-chan, when did you start being so nervous about people seeing your eyes? You didn't seem uncomfortable about that staring contest a few years back~"

Of course he wasn't. Belphegor had just gotten used to his hair grown out that way and didn't really care about his eyes. Back then, they were used for two things—seeing and identifying the country he hailed from.

"Ushishishi, the Prince has changed . . . though you seem to still have enough nerve to ask him such a question."

"Would you elaborate for the sake of a non-genius?" Lussuria jokes, somewhere between glad and relieved that Bel is back to his "old" self. The "stabs people good-naturedly when bored" self, not the "dyes whole streets red with blood when scared/excited" self.

". . ." Luss decides to take this as a sign to shut up.

. . .

Bel suppresses a sigh of relief when the Sun Guardian _finally _finishes with his hair, and runs to get a mirror.

He's actually surprised with the result. It's better than the prince expected-the layers are good, and the "flipy" feeling makes him smirk-but those bangs are awfully close to his eyes . . . Luckily the prince's hair is thicker than ever, so it shouldn't prove to be a problem in a fight . . . hopefully.

"Tch." Lussuria was right, he has gotten touchy about his eyes lately. Too touchy. A prince shouldn't be scared of anything and he's fast approaching the border of fear.

The Bloody Prince has his reasons—like trouble with the U.N. being a pig pain in the rear.

Bel never took much stock in that "eyes are the window to the soul" bit, though. They tell of emotions, certainly-pain-lines, for instance. But windows into the soul? Ridiculous. A good actor or someone particularly stoic could cover that up easily enough.

Yeah, the Prince isn't much of either.

Belphegor sighs. His parents hadn't been too crazy about showing weakness, so everyone in the entire family had long bangs. Not quite as long as he keeps them now, but not as short as "normal" people either. Heck, the first time Bel can remember seeing his brother's eyebrows was right before he killed him . . . Now that he thinks of it, Prince the Ripper can hardly remember his own eye color. Well, only one way to find out.

The teen tugs at his bangs experimentally, crazy smirk spreading across his face at the reflection.

Yep, same old eyes—sharp blue jewels not _quite _the same color, same scar just missing his right eye (that Ras certainly was a fighter), same thin eyebrows that made him look like a kid.

The Prince's smile widens, showing sharp, perfectly white teeth that would make the shark green with envy.

Some things never change.


End file.
